


don't put it past me babygirl, i'm a wild card

by glitchesaintshit



Series: 5/4 canonverse [3]
Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Corey Taylor is a Nuisance, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jim's New To All This, Male Bonding, Male Friendship, Ozzfest is Ozzfest, could be a character study if you squint, is this what the british would call.................banter, just guys being dudes, just guys being dudes sittin in a parking lot having the big discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29890695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchesaintshit/pseuds/glitchesaintshit
Summary: "Dick hangovermy ass.”“Youwouldlike a dick hangover in your ass, you fucking pervert.”aka the morning after the night beforeaka just corey & jim sitting in a parking lot smoking cigarettes
Relationships: John 5/Jim Root
Series: 5/4 canonverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197668
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	don't put it past me babygirl, i'm a wild card

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT'S UP MY DUDES I FEEL LIKE STRAIGHT UP ASS & I'M ABOUT TO GO FUCK UP MY HAIR FOR FUNSIES & NEEDED A PROJECT TO PICK AT IN THE MEANTIME SO  
> HERE'S SOME SHIT!!!!!!!!!!! [back handsprings directly into open sewer]
> 
> between me & marina we're sitting on 21 either complete or mostly-complete pieces for this chain of events?????????? and 8 notes docs???? not even counting what's already posted??????? and i had to make an index in my google drive to keep it straight????  
> and i've been absolutely FROTHING to post some of it, cuz it's good shit & tourfic (aka [when in hell we do shots at the bar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865985)) has been a major WIP for a long time while i've been out doing fuckin donuts in my proverbial go-kart out in the yard & just ruining the landscaping, but i couldn't (can't) post a lot of it until tourfic's in the can, so. 
> 
> BUT I WAS REREADING TOURFIC LIKE A HORRID LITTLE GREMLIN & REALIZED............................I COULD POST _THIS ONE_  
>  SO HERE WE ARE
> 
> So this takes place during tourfic, in Myrtle Beach the morning after the hair-pulling incident while John is still laying in bed like a toaster strudel and Jim's gone out to smoke.  
> This is what happens when he's outside.
> 
> title is from "Small Victories" by Knocked Loose  
> cuz i wrote this in may 2019 & it was a billion degrees outside where i lived & i just wanted to get in a fight & scream incoherently at the sea & sweat on a stranger

It’s early in the day and Jim’s out behind the venue smoking, still sleep-weary from the overabundance of John and lack of actual sleeping the night before, feeling like he could drop on his feet. He’ll probably go try to catch a nap on the bus before sound check then chug some Gatorade or something, get his electrolytes back up. He’s probably dehydrated as fuck too. 

He’s zoning in and out, just watching the clouds roll by, feeling like they’re not even real cuz they’re so far away, so big and so fast and the sky’s so blue and y’know, maybe getting choked out will do that to a guy. It’s peaceful. Like the whole world’s falling away from him. Jim feels like one big bruise, all raw nerve endings and imprints of John’s teeth and he’s still reeling a little from it, the sense-memory is so strong he can still practically feel John’s hands around his neck, fingers tangled into his hair & pulling & not stopping. 

It’s a little freaked-out, but it’s awesome. Jim feels good. The clouds are sucked out to sea. 

He’s so lost in it, the sunshine and the sky and somehow just being _fully present_ for what feels like possibly the first time in his entire life and definitely since he joined this band that he doesn’t even notice Corey roll up on him until he’s bumping Jim with his shoulder, reaching into his pocket to steal his lighter. 

“Where the fuck have you been, man?” he asks, lighting a cigarette and holding out Jim’s lighter to him like it was something he borrowed from Corey and not vice-versa. 

The spell is broken. 

“Around.” 

It’s too early and Jim’s too wiped for any sort of real conversation. It’s only what, noon? He’s allowed to be tired. 

Corey shakes his head, dropping down onto the concrete and staring into the tall grass at the edge of the parking lot, rubbing the spot between his eyes with his thumb. “Is everything _okay_ though?” Jim shrugs noncommittally and it’s like something inside Corey breaks, the levees breached. “Like I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into you lately, man, I’ve barely seen you. None of us have fucking seen you. You’re gone and now you’re off in another--you’re a fucking space cadet, man, what gives? I’ve never seen you this fucking bad before. _Are you okay?_ Do you need to like...talk to somebody?”

Jim snorts a laugh, flipping his lighter between his fingers. 

“I’m hooking up with the guitar player from Manson and he fucked me up bad last night, I’m so sorry dude.” 

It just tumbles out, right like that. He can’t help it, an actual laugh bubbles up bright & ugly and he can feel Corey’s eyes on him, like he’s trying to figure out of Jim’s bullshitting or not. Obviously, he’s not. He wouldn’t bullshit about that. 

He looks up at the sky, straight through the clouds and feels himself spacing again. Corey’s staring up at him hard.

Shit. 

Jim just wanted to like. Chill out. Be outside.

Fuck. 

Jim laughs again. This is so stupid. 

“I have a dick hangover. I can’t do this right now.” 

Corey chuckles, breathing out hard. “Kay but like, since when do you like dudes? Dick hangover _my ass._ ”

“You _would_ like a dick hangover in your ass, you fucking pervert.”

“Hey now,” Corey starts, pointing up at Jim with two fingers. Jim grins down at him. “Them’s fightin’ words.”

The smirk breaks across Corey’s face. 

“Call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

“Fuck you,” Corey says, grinning. He tugs at Jim’s pant leg and Jim gets the hint, sitting down next to him and pressing his palms into the warm sidewalk, staring out into the grass. It feels good--sharp and comforting. 

Corey’s watching Jim again and he can feel it, ducking his head and looking down at the ground instead. “I dunno, it just...happened, y’know? I wasn’t planning it or anything. I think I really like him. It’s kinda fucked up.” Jim lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I’m fucked up.”

Corey nods knowingly, laughing smoke out his nose. “I thought you were on heroin, dude. Tell me about it.” 

It’s probably a rhetorical “ _tell me about it_ ”, a statement not an invitation, but Jim’s got a dick hangover and isn’t thinking clearly.

“He like, pulled my hair and shit?” He scrapes his fingernails against the ground, chipping nail polish off. “Fucked me up bad, y’know. Choked me out last night. I didn’t think I was into it but I’m--I kinda really _am_ , y’know?”

Corey laughs so hard it looks like he’s having some sort of cardiac event, gripping his own knee and rocking forward a little as laughter shakes his body and he sort of topples over into Jim’s shoulder. It’s infectious; Jim chuckles a little, lip curling back into a massive dumb grin, showing all his top teeth so hard he can feel the breeze on his gums. Fuck. 

Jim gently pats Corey’s back, waiting for him to calm down, and Corey smears his face in his hands when he finally gets it under control enough to breathe normal again. There are tears in his eyes when he looks over at Jim. “That’s pretty fucked up, dude, holy shit,” he gasps, still trying to pin it back in, wiping his thumbs under his eyes. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry I asked--I didn’t even ask! You’re such a dick. Fuck, dude. _Fuck._ ”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Jim grins. His face hurts from smiling. 

“I knew you had to be into some freaky shit, I’ve heard you jerk off, it’s fucking _weird_ \--”

“Shut the fuck up, Mr. Piss Kink, I don’t need to hear this from _you_ \--”

“Hey now,” Corey starts, cutting Jim off and waving a finger for emphasis. “That was only like, six times.”

“Six times too many!” 

Jim rests his head against Corey’s, still grinning, and Corey makes an offended noise. 

Jim feels downright giddy and stupid and now thrumming in a different way--high on laughter and sunshine and blue skies and being tired as hell and yeah, he actually said that big ugly secret stuff out loud--but definitely still totally fucked up. It’s awesome. He doesn’t know why he didn’t sack up and ask John to choke him earlier, if the world sparkles like this after. He'd just never considered it.

They’re quiet for a minute, just sitting there together. Like old times, like always. Like Jim’s been missing out on lately cuz he’s been spending so much time around John and can’t be in two places at once. He sees why Corey was upset. They’ve been inseparable for years now, the most time they spent apart was when he was still doing Deadfront and Corey was out in California recording the first Slipknot album and calling him every day trying to convince him to join the band. 

They need each other. 

Jim doesn’t mention that, instead his mouth is saying, “Why would I be doing heroin, jeeze.”

Corey produces a lighter from his own pocket and lights another cigarette. “I don’t know, that’s why I was fuckin wigged out,” he says, blowing smoke. “We’re fucking rockstars, man. Why do we do anything? C’mon.”

True. 

“Saw one of the guys from Hatebreed do coke off a dick last night. I don’t know why we fuckin do anything.”

Jim laughs, leaning back on his hands and looking at Corey. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack. It was _brutal._ ” He sounds super impressed.

“Jesus,” Jim mumbles, staring out into the tall grass, picking at a hangnail absentmindedly. Not that he’s trying to do coke right now, but. That sounds awesome or terrible or both. 

“Nah, I’m just banging someone. No drugs,” he says quietly after another minute or whatever of the two of them--Jim & Corey, Corey & Jim, best friends forever--sitting there in silence, baking under the clear bright sky like lizards on the side of the highway. 

It takes a minute for Corey to finally nod, smashing the last of his cigarette out on the concrete. “You like him, huh.” 

It’s more of a statement than a question. 

Corey’s always been right about him.

Jim turns to meet his stare, smiling tight-lipped, borderline pained--all mouth & no eyes. “Yeah. Weird, right?”

Corey nods and picks a loose thread in his jeans, turning away from the eye contact. Jim can take a hint. He’s practically figured out what kind of weeds are growing at the other edge of the parking lot, just from staring into them so hard he can feel their secrets. 

Jim doesn’t know shit about plants.

“Yeah, well. Just don’t get hurt, man.”

The birds and the cicadas are suddenly deafening and Jim’s heartbeat is somewhere up in the middle of his head beating in the bone behind his ears and his throat feels sharp, scratchy in a bad way and his cheeks are hot. Like his dad just caught him sneaking a girl into his bedroom or something. 

Shit.

“And don’t go dying on me either, I need to keep you around.”

Jim feels like he’s in a tunnel that’s collapsing but the sky is still impossibly blue, there’s sunshine on his face. 

It’s sort of like being punched in the sternum.

Corey’s hand rubs small circles between his shoulder blades. He's quiet for a couple beats.

“How’s that even _work_ , honestly. That motherfucker’s what, a buck twenty five soaking wet? How can he be out here choking your big ass, what the _fuck_ ,” he says very feelingly. 

That breaks it; shoots the bad feeling full of holes and shoves it out to sea. Jim laughs through his nose, grin dragging across his face, nodding a little. 

“It’s great, right?” Jim says. He hopes the _I’m fucking impressed too dude what the fuck_ comes across in his voice. 

Corey drops his hand and goes back to absently picking at the hole in his own jeans. “How have _you_ been banging that twink for weeks and he’s still up playing shows. I’m so pissed dude. What the fuck. That’s Iron Man shit. I can’t believe it.”

“Sorry, back up-- I’m banging _what?_ ”

“Oh my god,” Corey groans in exasperation. There’s a flush creeping up his neck and it’s so sudden it’s definitely not from sun exposure. “You’re the worst, okay, you’re dumb and, and--I don’t wanna talk about it. I hate you. _Jesus fucking Christ_ , dude.”

Jim's smiling again.

x

Jim hooks their shared laptop into the DSL drop at the venue later and types “what is a twink?” into Ask Jeeves.

After he finds out, he’s sure to clear the browser history.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out: [ao3userglitchesaintshit.tumblr.com](http://ao3userglitchesaintshit.tumblr.com)


End file.
